


Dulce et Decorum Est (To Go Home and Get Some Rest)

by Chash



Series: Neeeeeeeeeerds [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-08
Updated: 2015-04-08
Packaged: 2018-03-21 20:39:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3704313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chash/pseuds/Chash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke joins the Junior Classical League for two reasons: to appease her mother and to annoy Bellamy Blake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dulce et Decorum Est (To Go Home and Get Some Rest)

**Author's Note:**

> From an email to [Perrito](http://archiveofourown.org/users/perrito) on April 6: "DID U KNOW I WAS IN THE JUNIOR CLASSICAL LEAGUE IN HIGH SCHOOL which is basically the LATIN CLUB and we went to ACTUAL LATIN CONVENTIONS and did LATIN TRIVIA CONTESTS and BUILT CATAPULTS AND CHARIOTS and basically what I'm saying is that it's definitely my moral imperative to write a terrible high school AU about the 100 being in the JCL right"
> 
> So yeah here's a fic about my hazy memories of being a giant Latin dork in high school. Title is one of the things we used to chant during the toga parade! That's a real thing. I did not hallucinate this.

Clarke joins the Junior Classical League because of her mother, but she ends up staying because of Bellamy Blake.

It starts off as a concession to her mother's weirdness; before Clarke hit high school, Abby seemed content with her impressive grades and art as her main hobby, but as soon as she gets to ninth grade, it's all "colleges look for this" and "have you tried that." Her first attempt at finding something new for college applications is joining the cross-country team with Wells, but the teams are gender-segregated, and she doesn't really feel like she fits in without her best friend at her side. She drops after a week and joins the crew for the fall play instead. She likes it, has a good time working on the set, but according to her mother that falls under the "general arts umbrella," and she needs to diversify.

So when Ms. Cartwig, the Latin teacher, looks at her drawing of Persephone gleefully pulling Hades into the underworld with her (Clarke's pretty into the interpretation of the myth where Persephone eats the pomegranate to get away from her controlling mother, for obvious reasons) and says, "Have you thought about joining the JCL? We could use your art at conventions," it sounds way more appealing than trying to get involved in student government.

It turns out JCL is the Latin club, and they go to conventions every few weeks and build catapults, which sounds fun, and have some sort of elected student leadership, which means Clarke can definitely sell her mom on it. She doesn't mention her main interest is getting to enter the art contests, and Abby seems satisfied that Clarke is getting involved in something outside her comfort zone.

Bellamy Blake comes into it at her first convention.

It's held over the weekend at a school an hour away, and Clarke is regretting her choices when she has to be in the school parking lot at seven a.m. on a _Saturday_. She regrets them even more when she shows up and doesn't know most of the other kids. Clarke isn't exactly antisocial, but she hasn't figured out where she fits into high school yet. Wells is her best friend, but he's started hanging out with the cross-country kids, who have their own culture and in-jokes and lunch table, and Clarke doesn't feel like she belongs there. 

That might be why Bellamy Blake is the first person she notices waiting for the bus, because he never seems to fit in _anywhere_. He's in her grade, but two years older than she is, and no one knows why. He moved to town as a fifteen-year-old eighth grader and everyone kind of assumed he was stupid or didn't care about school, but Clarke's been in enough classes with him to know neither of those is true. And, well, he's going to a _Latin convention_. On a Saturday. It's not really delinquent behavior.

The next person she sees is Raven Reyes, because Raven bounces up to her and says, "You're Clarke, right?"

"Yeah," she says.

"Cool. You want to sit with me on the bus? Otherwise Wick is going to try and I'm going to break his nose."

Raven is a sophomore, but they have gym together, and they've been on the same volleyball team a couple times. Still, Clarke hasn't really talked to her much, so she's not sure how to take the threat of casual violence against whoever Wick is. "Why are you going to break his nose?"

"We're in charge of the catapult and he doesn't take constructive criticism well."

"You wouldn't know constructive criticism if it bit you in the ass," says a guy, presumably Wick. He has unfortunate facial hair, but the smile of acknowledgment he flashes Clarke when he sees her is friendly enough. " _Your design is bad and you should feel bad_ doesn't count."

"Well, it is and you should," says Raven brightly. She turns back to Clarke. "So, how about it?"

And that's how Clarke makes her first high school friend.

She's planning to mostly follow Raven around like a lost puppy at the convention itself, because she doesn't have any clue what she's doing. Her art is already registered for the contests, and she has no idea what else happens at a Latin convention. But as soon as they get off the bus, Bellamy yells, "Ninth and tenth graders, get over here!" and she and Raven shrug at each other and join the clump of kids surrounding him. "Okay," he says. "Reyes, Wick, you guys have the catapult and chariot?"

"Right," says Raven.

"Good. Everyone else, we're on novice and intermediate events. So line up and I'll tell you where you're going. I don't care how much you think you suck, tons of schools don't send anyone to these things, so as long as we've got a warm body there, we'll place."

"Why are you picking?" Clarke hears herself ask. There have been a couple other conventions, she thinks, so he probably knows better than she does, but she doesn't like his tone. It sounds too much like bullying.

"Someone's got to," says Bellamy, clearly sizing her up. "Clarke, right? You're on Certamen." He jerks his head to the side, an obvious dismissal, but Clarke stands her ground.

"What's Certamen?"

"Latin Jeopardy, pretty much."

"Why don't you tell us what there is and we decide for ourselves?"

Bellamy makes a face. "If anyone cared, they should have signed up earlier."

"There's sight reading, right?" asks a guy from their class. Monty, she thinks. At Bellamy's nod, he says, "I'm pretty good at that."

Clarke goes to stand next to Bellamy and look at his lists. "Okay, Monty, novice sight reading." Her eyes flick up to Bellamy's. "It'll take like five minutes."

He rolls his eyes. "Jesus, fine," he huffs. "Have it your way, Princess."

She ends up on the Certamen team anyway; the bigger surprise is that's where Bellamy put himself too, and he takes it really seriously. He tends to be quiet in class, but it seems like he's in JCL because he really _likes_ this stuff. It's almost enough to make her feel bad for giving him shit, but he's not allowed to push everyone else around just because he's older and bigger than they are.

So, if she's honest, Clarke gets serious about the JCL just because she doesn't want Bellamy to have his way all the time. She might be petty, but at least she's honest about it.

*

The JCL isn't one of the more time-consuming clubs in school. Clarke's main contributions are art, which she does anyway, and Certamen, which they don't actually have real practice for, except when Bellamy gets weird and over-invested, so it shouldn't really be a big part of her life. But she likes most of the JCL kids, Bellamy aside, and she hates spending time at home. First she just hangs out after school on Wednesdays, when Raven and Wick do work on the catapult and the chariot. The two of them bicker (about _everything_ ; Clarke is pretty sure if Wick introduced her to anyone, Raven would claim he got her name wrong) while Clarke sketches or works on her homework, and it makes her feel like she's finally fitting in. Then a mythology club starts up on Thursdays, prepping kids from the middle school for the National Mythology Exam, and she gets roped into doing art for it. Once that's happening, it just makes sense to stay for the meetings too, even if Bellamy is there. 

"You two arguing is half the reason the kids pay attention," says Nyko, who is the nominal head of the club. He mostly texts his girlfriend while Bellamy waxes poetic about Greek heroes and Clarke occasionally interjects with sarcastic asides or inappropriate jokes about bestiality. It's a very popular club.

Three weeks into that, Octavia, one of the seventh graders, comes up as she and Bellamy are cleaning up and asks, "Why don't we ever give Clarke a ride home?"

Bellamy's eyes flick to Clarke. "Why would we?" he asks.

"Because it's _polite_ ," says Octavia, kicking Bellamy's ankle, and Clarke remembers that her last name is _Blake_. She must be his sister, which is both kind of adorable and explains why he's always picking on her for answers.

Bellamy huffs and looks over at Clarke. "You need a ride home, Princess?"

She'd object to the nickname, but it's never done any good before, and she doubts it's going to start to now. "You have a car?" she asks instead. It's easy to forget he's sixteen, given his grade and maturity level.

"In a manner of speaking," he says. "It's a piece of junk." He slings his backpack and then Octavia's onto his back. "But it's a ride. Take it or leave it."

"Take it," she says, instantly. The late bus takes forever. "Thanks," she adds.

"Thank O," he says, turning away from her.

Clarke gives Octavia a big smile. "Thanks, Octavia."

If his sister likes her, it'll really piss Bellamy off.

It's not until they're coming to her street that she starts feeling nervous. The town has always been pretty sharply divided on class lines--Arkers, the faculty of Ark College and their children, and townies, pretty much everyone else. Clarke's mom is Dean of the Faculty, and she's on the school board at the high school, which means she's both very well off and very influential. Clarke was born a good, smart kid, and she'd have to work hard to make anyone think otherwise. Bellamy and Octavia are fairly new in town, but she's never gotten the impression they're well off. His car is a beat-up old Saab, functional, but clearly bought on the cheap, and there's a vest with a nametag on it in the backseat that looks like it's from a grocery or convenience store.

"You can just let me off here," she says, when they get to her corner. Her house would be large for a family of four; it's gigantic for just her and her mom.

Bellamy rolls his eyes. "Just tell me which one's yours. We already know you're rich."

She flushes, and Octavia glares at Bellamy. "Don't be a dick, Bell," she tells him.

"Don't say dick, O."

"If you don't want me to say it, don't be one!"

Clarke laughs at that. "She's got you there, Bellamy." She wets her lips. "It's this one."

He rolls his eyes, but he doesn't comment on the house. "See if I give you a ride again," he tells her.

But he does, every single week.

*

As it turns out, none of the upperclassmen care about the JCL, so by the time they're sophomores, Clarke and Bellamy are pretty much in charge of the whole thing. Her mom is thrilled; she seems to think Clarke is showing initiative and drive. Clarke wouldn't really go that far--it's maybe 50% genuine enjoyment and 50% spiting Bellamy--but she has to admit, it's pretty much the highlight of her week, working on JCL stuff. Arguing with Bellamy about dumb minutiae is hilarious, and Raven's rapidly becoming her closest friend.

Which, she has to admit, is the kind of unfortunate part.

Clarke wasn't unpopular in elementary and middle school, but her friendships, aside from Wells, were circumstantial. Her friends were the kids she sat next to in class, and once they stopped sitting together, the friendships pretty much ended. She's pretty sure she's supposed to be friends with the other Arkers, according to high-school hierarchy, but most of them have the hyper-focus on getting into the best college that Clarke's mom wishes she had. She does better with the Arkers who are overly invested in JCL like Raven and Wick, who are trying to get into college by being mechanical and/or engineering geniuses, or even with Bellamy, whose life outside the club remains largely a mystery, but at least she knows where she stands with him.

It wouldn't be that bad, except for Wells, who still feels like he's supposed to be her best friend. He runs in a totally different circle than she does now, doesn't know or want to know any of her friends, and makes a face like he's smelling something rotten every time she mentions Bellamy.

"What?" she finally snaps. It's January, they have a convention next weekend, and Bellamy is being an ass. Wells is supposed to be sympathetic.

"I just don't know what you see in that guy."

Clarke opens and shuts her mouth. It's on the tip of her tongue to say she doesn't see _anything_ in Bellamy, that he's a dick, but she knows it's a lie. He's smart and funny and dedicated, a great older brother, and occasionally, when he thinks no one will notice, a nice person. He's actually really sweet with the kids in mythology club, and he's a natural leader who knows how to motivate people.

But she can't say all that to Wells either. Or to anyone. Ever. Instead she says, "He's an ass, but he knows what he's doing. Most of the time."

"I never thought I'd be calling a _Latin club_ a bad crowd, but--"

"A bad crowd?" Clarke asks, disbelieving.

"Bellamy Blake is--"

"Bellamy Blake is none of your business. I don't talk shit about your cross country buddies."

"My cross county buddies aren't felons."

"He's not a felon!" Clarke shoves her things into her bag, furious. She doesn't know what Wells' problem is, but she's not going to fucking put up with it. "You don't have to hang out with my friends, but you can't insult them either."

"So you're friends with _Bellamy Blake_ now?" is the last thing she hears as she storms out of the library.

There's still a half an hour before the late bus leaves, so she goes over to Ms. Cartwig's room. As expected, Bellamy is there, long legs propped up on a desk, reading _Song of Solomon_ for English. He looks up when she slams her bag down on the desk next to him, raising his eyebrows. "I need a ride home," she says.

"Now?" he asks, confused, but there's no hesitation. He's already putting his book away.

"No, not now," she says, deflating. She sinks into the chair and rubs her face. "I just don't want to take the bus."

"Oh. Sure. All you have to do is ask, Princess." There's a pause before he says, "You okay?"

"Just got in a dumb fight with my friend." She sighs. "We're--we used to be really close, but we're moving in different circles now, and I don't know how to fix it."

Bellamy shrugs and opens his book again. "I don't have a circle, so I can't help you."

"You have Miller." Clarke's spoken to Nathan Miller maybe five times in her life, but it's enough that she knows he's Bellamy's best friend and a pretty nice guy, if a little quiet. It's always a little strange to see the two of them together, Bellamy out of leader mode and just shooting the shit like any other teenage boy. 

"Two people isn't a circle, it's a line."

"You have me." He looks up at that, and she refuses to be embarrassed. "So you've got a triangle, at least."

He laughs. "Well, that's something." He drums his fingers on the desk. "Are you running for office next year? For JCL."

"Yeah, president."

"Seriously?"

She shrugs. "None of the rising seniors care."

"Yeah, but I can't believe you're going to run against _me_."

She grins. "You're running?"

"Why wouldn't I? I'm already basically president." She kicks his ankle, and he corrects, "Co-president."

"I heard you weren't coming back next year."

"Wait, really? Tell me more. I haven't heard that rumor."

"You're eighteen. I heard you were going to get your GED over the summer and never come back."

"Wow, that's dumb on so many levels," says Bellamy. "One, you can take the GED when you're seventeen, so if I was going to do that, I would have already done it. Two, if I was just waiting for my birthday to blow this joint, I would have left as soon as I turned eighteen. And--" he looks down, voice going a little soft. "Octavia's going to be a freshman next year. Someone's got to be here to look out for her."

"I'll look out for her," Clarke says, without thinking. Because of course she will.

Bellamy doesn't smile at her, but he smiles at his book, and she's pretty sure it's for her. "I was going to ask you anyway. She could use a girl to talk to. If she needs one." He clears his throat before she can say anything. "Who told you I was leaving, anyway?"

Clarke shrugs. "I dunno. It was just a rumor." There are a lot of rumors about him; he has to know that.

"You believed it."

"I figured it had to be weird," she admits. "Being so much older than the rest of us."

"It's two years, it's not like I'm some withered old man."

"You kind of are."

He rolls his eyes. "Anyway, colleges like high-school diplomas better than GEDs. I'll have a better chance at scholarships if I graduate, even if I do it late." His neck reddens a little, like maybe he didn't mean to tell her that much.

Clarke worries her lip, but finally gives in and says, "What happened? When you got held back. You don't really seem like the type."

"I do seem like the type," he says. "You just know me better than that." He says it so casually it startles her; it's odd to think he knows they're friends too. "My mom died when I was twelve. It was the second quarter of seventh grade."

"Oh," she says, soft. "I'm so sorry."

"My dad died when I was two, so I didn't have anyone to take me. But--they found Octavia's dad, and she went to him." Clarke can see his hand fisting, like he's aching for a fight. "I was so pissed. My mom left him because he was an abusive asshole, and they were giving her back to him. I told them we had to stay together, but he didn't want me, so I went to foster care. I was a fucking terror. They couldn't keep me in a home. I was in California--that's where we lived before--and they were in Arizona. I kept trying to run away to get her. School was the last thing I gave a shit about back then."

"Fuck."

That gets a smile out of him. "Watch your language, Princess."

"Seriously, Bellamy, that's awful."

"Yeah," he says. He lets out a long breath. "As far as I know, he never hurt her. He was a shitty dad, didn't feed her enough, blew the money he got to support her on booze, but--" He shakes his head. "Anyway. He got arrested for beating up his girlfriend, and his sister said she'd take Octavia. And when O asked, she took me too. I--really owe her. She can't help me with college or anything, can't afford it, but she's going to help O."

Clarke nearly reaches out for him, but she stops herself at the last second. "Thanks for telling me."

He shrugs. "Well, you're in my triangle, right?" he asks, with just a hint of a smile.

She smiles back. "Right."

*

She doesn't talk to Wells for two days, but then she cracks. She sort of gets it--she gets jealous of his cross-country friends too--even if she has no idea why he focused on _Bellamy_ , when she spends a lot more school-time with Raven and Jasper and Monty. But Bellamy has the bad rap, that dark past that none of the rumors have figured out.

She buys him a piece of cake and braves the cross-country table at lunch to give it to him. "Sorry for--well, I know you were just looking out for me," she settles on.

Wells looks down at the cake. "I just don't get it. I thought you hated him, and he's all I hear about."

Clarke tries to figure out exactly how much she talks about Bellamy. They have the mythology club, which is now on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and they've started doing Certamen on Sunday morning with Jasper and Harper because it's also good prep for the National Latin Exam. And, if she's honest, it's kind of nice to have a weekly thing to do with friends. Her social life is kind of pathetic. He's her lab partner in Chemistry, which was outside of her control, and he gives her rides home when she doesn't want to take the bus.

There's maybe more Bellamy Blake in her life than she realized. 

"He's--we're friends," she says. It's pretty hard to deny at this point. "And we're pretty much running the JCL together." She squares her jaw, because she's not going to give up on this one. "He's a good guy, Wells. I don't care if you like him, but I do."

Wells shakes his head. "I don't get it, but--I'm glad you're making friends."

Clarke steals a bite of his cake. "Yeah, I don't get it either."

*

That summer, she discovers, quite by accident, that Bellamy is a lifeguard. Which is--interesting. 

It's not like she hasn't noticed Bellamy is hot. Everyone knows he's hot. Girls talk about him all the time. Raven has occasionally mentioned she'd hit that, although Clarke suspects that's her way of making Wick jealous. Maybe. Honestly, she has no idea what's up with Raven and Wick. She's pretty sure Raven and Wick don't know what's up with them.

Anyway, Bellamy is hot, and apparently a lifeguard. Unfortunately, he's a lifeguard at her country club, which is just deeply uncomfortable. Clarke already hates the club; she doesn't know anyone there, and it's the richest, whitest place she ever goes (Wells jokes he and his dad probably just got in to meet a quota, even though Thelonious is the president of the college), which is saying a lot, considering her mom. In that sense, Bellamy is kind of exciting; she's thrilled to see him, even aside from the shirtless, incredibly muscled thing, until she realizes that it might be weird. He's literally hired help at a place where she's treated like--she groans internally--royalty.

But it would be a lot shittier to not say hi, right?

"I hope you get tips," she says, sidling up next to the lifeguard chair.

Bellamy looks down over his fucking _aviators_ , smirking like, well. A really, really hot guy who knows he's really, really hot.

"Hey, Princess."

"Hi." She's wearing a bikini and it's cute enough, but she's never felt more aware of the two-year difference in their ages. He's eighteen, ripped, and everyone is checking him out. She's sixteen, kind of awkward, and not convinced she shaved well enough to be wearing this outfit. "I didn't know you worked here."

"Just over the summer," he says. "And I do get tips. It's awesome. You guys are really unnecessarily wealthy." She winces, and is surprised when he does too. "Not you."

"No, I am. I'm completely unnecessarily wealthy. You're not wrong."

He ruffles her hair, which doesn't help with the feeling-like-a-kid thing. "How's your summer going?"

"Okay. I have a few weeks off before I start working."

"You're working?"

She flushes darker. "My mom says it's good for college applications. Makes me look well-balanced. And I'm always happy to have an excuse to get out of the house in the summer. My mom and I are, uh--" She shrugs, feeling awkward. His parents are dead. She's lucky to have these problems. "It's been rough since she and my dad split up. I really wanted him to get custody. I got along a lot better with him."

"You don't anymore?"

"He moved to China to find himself or something," she says, shrugging. "We email sometimes, but--it still felt like he abandoned me." She sighs. "I know, I'm ungrateful."

"Nah," says Bellamy, not looking at her. "Parents can be assholes too." He smiles at her. "But I bet China's cool, if you ever want to go."

Clarke squints up at him; the sun is bright behind him. "You're secretly nice, aren't you?"

"Occasionally," he says. "Don't tell anyone."

*

She starts working for Professor Kane in the poli-sci department, doing gopher work from nine to three on weekdays. After she finishes, she goes to the country club to see if Bellamy's around. They start off talking about the JCL, the upcoming year and how they're going to deal with being official co-presidents (write-in votes are a beautiful thing; Raven and Jasper organized a campaign and everything), but they move on to just chilling and shooting the shit pretty quickly. It's surprisingly easy.

"You've been hanging out with shirtless Bellamy Blake _every day_?" asks Raven, when they grab lunch a few weeks later.

"Not every day," Clarke hedges. "Just when he's working."

"Oh, yeah, then it's totally unremarkable. I should get a country club membership."

"Wouldn't Wick be jealous?"

She's surprised when Raven actually blushes; she's never seen that. "Wick's not capable of normal human emotions," she mutters. But she shuts up about Bellamy, at least.

*

"Oh my god, of course I'm capable, Jesus Christ," says Wick, when Clarke mentions it. " _I'm_ not capable of normal human emotions? If she ever said she liked me, she would probably die. Just keel over and die." He glances at her. "But seriously, I'd never blame anyone for checking out shirtless Blake. I had no idea he was packing that. Damn."

*

"How many people are you talking about me with?" Bellamy asks, when she mentions it to him. He's wearing the aviators again, so she can't see his eyes, just his smirk and his raised eyebrows. "Are you just telling everyone you talk to how shirtless I am?" He looks down at himself. "I'm also pantsless, you know."

Clarke pats his leg consolingly; it's very, very solid. "Sorry we don't like your legs as much as your chest."

"I'll get over it."

"Do you not talk to Raven and Wick?"

"I'm a triangle, remember? You and Miller."

"And Octavia."

"And Octavia," he grants.

"How's she doing, by the way?"

"Good. She says hi."

"See, you're talking about me too," she teases.

He shrugs, but doesn't deny it. "I told her if she had issues, you had her back, so no getting out of it now."

Clarke shakes her head. "I meant it."

His smile softens, becomes fond. It's even worse than smirking. "Thanks, Clarke."

"I'm not sure you've ever called me that before," she says, heart in her throat.

"Probably not," he agrees. "Don't get used to it."

*

She goes out to visit her grandparents in August, which is good, probably. She'll have a month off of Bellamy Blake, and when she gets back, he'll be wearing a shirt again, and she'll stop wondering if he ever thinks about kissing her, stop analyzing every time another girl comes up to talk to him at the lifeguard station, stop thinking about him all the time, pretty much.

Maybe he'll be glad she's gone too--he might get better tips.

Maybe he'll go home with one of the other girls.

Her first day in Florida, he texts, _my shift is so boring rn_ with a pouting selfie, and all the hope she had of this thing going away pretty much dies.

*

They text every day in August, and by the time she's heading back, she feels like she is real, actual, possibly _best_ friends with Bellamy Blake. She feels a little twinge of guilt when she thinks it, because Wells has been her best friend forever, but he started dating one of the girls from the team at the end of the school year, and it feels like they never have time for each other anymore. She doesn't feel like it's her fault, not totally, but it still makes her feel off-kilter. In some ways, it's nice to have a (very small, barely worth mentioning, not at all important) crush on Bellamy, because at least it means he's not just her replacement Wells. He's something different.

He texts at seven a.m. on the first day of school: _o's letting you have shotgun, we'll be there in twenty_ ; she grins as she tells her mother she's not taking the bus.

Abby doesn't look nearly as enthused. "Then how are you getting in?"

"Bellamy's getting me." Abby looks like she's going to say something, so Clarke goes on, "He drives me home all the time."

She purses her lips. "I don't like that either."

"Because god forbid I don't have to suffer through the bus."

"I could get you a car."

Clarke stares, reminded for the thousandth time of Bellamy saying she was _unnecessarily wealthy_. "You'd rather _buy me a car_ than have me get a ride with a friend?"

Even her mother has to admit that's ridiculous. "No, but--he's so much older."

"He's only two years older, he's in my grade, and he's my friend."

"Wells has a car."

"And Wells hasn't offered to drive me to school," says Clarke. Her phone buzzes, and she sees _waiting on you, princess_ from Bellamy. "I gotta go, don't want to be late!"

"Clarke--"

She hops into shotgun and grins at Bellamy and Octavia.

"You're way too cheerful for the first day of school," Bellamy grumbles, but he gives her half a smile. "Good to see you."

Octavia is bouncing in the back. "Hi Clarke!"

"You think _I'm_ cheerful?" Clarke asks.

"I'm finally in high school! Middle school is the _worst_. We're in the same building, but off in another section like pariahs, I never got to see Bell, I couldn't join the JCL--"

"Most fourteen-year-old girls don't think of the Latin club as a big thing they're looking forward to," Bellamy interjects.

"Bell says I can write the scripts for the skit contests," she says proudly.

"You going to use your co-presidential veto on me?" he asks, giving her a sidelong smirk that trips her heart up.

"No way," says Clarke, putting her feet up on the dashboard. "Jasper's scripts are a disaster."

*

Octavia settles in to high school so well Bellamy actually seems alarmed.

"She has a _boyfriend_ ," he tells Clarke, tugging at his hair. They're in Ms. Cartwig's room after school, figuring out the convention schedule for the year. "A boyfriend! He's a _junior_. He's way too old for her."

"He's two years older than her," Clarke says absently. "Two years isn't that much." There's a pause, and Clarke really hopes he isn't thinking that two years is the difference between the two of them, like she is. She soldiers on. "And I know Lincoln. He's in my art class. Every art class I've ever taken. He's a really nice guy."

Bellamy doesn't _relax_ , but she can see some of the tension leaving his shoulders. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," says Clarke, trying not to smile. The overprotective big brother thing is cute.

"I figured I had a couple years," he says. "You didn't date when you were a freshman."

"No one asked me." She doesn't point out that she still doesn't date. It's embarrassing, and he already knows.

"Oh, hey, that reminds me, are you going to to Halloween dance?"

"I wasn't planning to."

"Not with Raven and Wick or something?"

Clarke snorts. "You seriously thought Raven and Wick were going to a dance together?" They're seniors and seem to be dealing with their upcoming separation anxiety by somehow bickering even more than usual, working on the catapult non-stop, and both applying to MIT early decision. According to Raven, it's a coincidence. Wick has never disagreed, but he's never agreed either.

"I thought if Raven went he'd tag along." He makes a face. "O and Lincoln are going. I'm sticking around to drive her home. You guys should come so I'm not dying of boredom."

"That is absolutely the worst invitation to a dance I've ever gotten."

Bellamy flashes her a grin. "I'll buy you a pizza if you come."

"That's more like it."

She talks Raven (and by extension Wick) into coming too, because being alone with Bellamy at a dance sounds more dangerous than being there with backup.

"Are you sure he wasn't trying to ask you out?" Raven grumbles. "I hate dances."

"He's Bellamy. I think he'd be more direct. He just wants backup while he spies on his sister."

"Fine. But I'm going to hang out with Wick the whole time. Just in case."

Clarke rolls her eyes. "Yeah, I'm sure that's why."

Raven gives her a calculating look. "You know this is how people talk about you and Bellamy too, right?"

She does, of course. Jasper started humming "Kiss the Girl" in the middle of one of their more heated arguments last year, and the freshman girls who giggle when he walks by sigh dreamily whenever he calls her "Princess." It would be really hard to miss that people think they're together.

"I know," she says, and gives Raven and impulsive squeeze around the shoulders. "Thanks for coming."

*

The dance is as uneventful as she expected. She dances a couple times with Bellamy and Wick, once with Raven, and once with both Jasper and Monty. The rest of the time, Bellamy glares at Lincoln and Octavia while Clarke makes fun of him.

In the bathroom, Roma asks if they're together.

"Most of the time," Clarke says, deliberately answering the wrong question as she touches up her eye liner. "We're in like 90% of the same classes and there's JCL stuff."

She and Roma used to be kind of friends, in fifth grade, and they still smile and nod and occasionally work together on projects, when she doesn't work with Bellamy. So when Roma says, "You should be careful," Clarke believes she's actually concerned.

"Careful?"

"He's so focused. He doesn't, like, date. Ever. So I wouldn't get your hopes up." She flashes Clarke a conspiratorial grin. "But if you just want to get laid, he's _great_."

Clarke can't quite make eye contact with him for the rest of the night.

*

"Are you seriously dating Bellamy Blake?" Wells asks. He and his girlfriend broke up a few weeks back, so he and Clarke are back to hanging out in the library on Mondays. But she still gets her rides home from Bellamy. She was hoping Wells either hadn't noticed or hadn't cared, but apparently no such luck.

"I'm seriously not dating Bellamy Blake," she says, not looking up from her Bio homework.

"You went to the dance with him."

"And Raven and Wick. We were spying on his little sister. It was more of an intervention. He has a problem." 

Wells is quiet for a minute. "You wouldn't go to that dance with me."

She frowns. "You wanted to go?"

"Freshman year. I asked and you said no."

Her frown deepens as she tries to remember. She vaguely recalls the invitation; he said he and his friends from the team were going, and asked if she wanted to come. She'd been annoyed about his new friendships and told him she had plans. 

"I was trying to ask you out," Wells says, soft. "I've been trying."

Her first, knee jerk response is _you're really bad at it_. She bites it back. "I didn't know," she says instead, which is just as honest, but less mean.

"Yeah, I know." His smile twists up his face. "But you're not interested."

She might have been, if she'd realized what he was asking back in ninth grade, before things got weird between them, before they each made their own separate bubbles of lives. But it feels cruel to say that too, so she settles on, "I'm sorry."

He shrugs. "It's okay. I was being a jerk. I shouldn't have held it against you. You didn't do anything wrong."

"I get it. But--I did miss you. Hanging out with you. We should get better at that."

"We should," he agrees, his smile grateful and only a little sad. "But I think I need to go for now? Just for now," he adds, quickly. "You have a ride, right?"

She should maybe feel guilty, going to Bellamy right after this conversation. But it's not like she'd be going out with Wells if not for him. She's not so into Bellamy Blake that she'd give up on a good prospect, if she had one. Much as it hurts, Wells isn't one anymore, if he ever was.

"I'm set," she tells him. "Go ahead. I'll see you tomorrow."

They hug, which is only a little weird, and then she goes to the Latin room. Ms. Cartwig's not around, so it's just Bellamy, grading Latin 1 vocab tests, possibly for fun. He really is a gigantic nerd.

She flops down in Ms. Cartwig's chair and rolls it over to him. "Apparently someone did ask me out in ninth grade, I just didn't notice."

He laughs and shakes his head, putting his arm around her in some weird boy gesture that's half hug and half headlock. "Oh, Princess," he says, all affection, and Clarke is profoundly grateful for Bellamy Blake.

*

"Absolutely not," says Bellamy, arms crossed in front of him. It's the first convention of the year, and Octavia's big theatrical debut. "I'm not dressing up in a swan costume and seducing Clarke."

"Which one are you objecting to more?" Clarke asks, the picture of innocence. She's doing really well not laughing.

He scowls at her. "Don't think I won't murder you. I would _love_ to have the presidency all to myself."

"I hate it when Mom and Dad fight," Jasper stage-whispers to Monty, and Bellamy cuffs him lightly.

"You're the one who wants us to enter everything," Clarke says, ignoring Jasper. "We need a Zeus. We can't enter the skit competition without a Zeus."

"Who even taught you about swan seduction?" Bellamy grumbles.

"You and Clarke," Octavia says primly, and Clarke high-fives her.

Bellamy heaves an enormous sigh. "I can do this or help with the chariot race," he tells Clarke. "Your call, Princess."

"Swan costume all the way."

To his credit, Bellamy really puts his all into Octavia's less-than-helpful "insert seductive swan dance here" stage direction. To Clarke's credit, she doesn't completely lose it as Leda. She's not sure she gets all the way to "seduced," but she doesn't fall over laughing, so it's a victory.

"You know, there have been times in the past I thought you were kind of attractive," she says afterward. "But that's over now. I'm done."

"Good timing," says Bellamy, taking off his feather crown and putting it on her head instead. "The girl in the front row was definitely checking you out."

"Really?" Clarke asks. "Which one?"

"The brunette with the intense eye makeup."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." He glances around. "We've got an hour before Certamen, I'll cover for you if you want to go say hi."

"Are you trying to wingman me at a Latin convention?"

He smirks. "I'll always wingman you, Princess."

Clarke shrugs. "Well, if you're offering. She was hot."

She's never tried to flirt with a girl before, but she's never really tried to flirt with a guy either, so it's probably time to start. And the brunette _was_ hot. Clarke finds her still in the auditorium, mingling with her teammates, and tries out, "Enjoy the show?"

The brunette has a very pointy smile. "Very impressive. More of a script than most teams manage."

"We have a very enthusiastic ninth grader who wanted to embarrass her brother."

"Zeus, I assume."

"It's the role he was born to play." She offers her hand. "I'm Clarke. I go to Mount Weather."

"Lexa," says the girl. "Grounder's Academy." She smiles, not quite as sharkish. "I was going to try to find something to eat before Certamen. Want to come?"

They get a snack and chat about school and the JCL until Certamen, and somehow manage to exchange numbers in the crush to get to their buses after. Lexa even leans in an presses a quick kiss to the corner of her mouth, and when Clarke smiles, she looks relieved.

"I guess I'm bi," she tells Bellamy when they're on the bus.

"Cool," he says, and falls asleep on her shoulder while she texts Lexa.

*

Grounder's is an hour and a half away, so they communicate periodically via text and snapchat, and meet up once to pretty much just make out for a couple hours. It's nice, but kind of a pain to maintain, and it's over within a month. They don't break up so much as trail off, but it's still fun.

Bellamy asks about it after the next convention, when she doesn't ask him to cover for her, and she explains with a shrug.

"Good for you," he says. "You could use more fun."

"You have to do a seductive bull dance this time," she shoots back. "That's more than enough fun for me."

*

Raven and Wick find out about their college acceptance during AP Latin, for which Clarke is grateful. It's the only class she has with the two of them, and she'd hate to not be there. Ms. Cartwig has them on group translation, probably because she knows all the seniors who applied early decision are going to be useless. Clarke and Bellamy are doing all the work for their group while Raven and Wick check their phones every thirty seconds.

"Got it," Wick breathes, and Raven hurries to refresh her phone too.

"On three?" she asks. 

"On three."

They count off and click. Raven whoops and jumps in the air almost instantly, but Wick is subdued, and Clarke's heart sinks. It's a competitive school, it makes sense that maybe both of them wouldn't get in, but--

"Shit, Wick," says Raven, noticing he's not celebrating with her, but Wick just gets up, picks her up, twirls her around (Bellamy has to duck), and kisses her.

"I'm so fucking proud of you," he says, grinning.

"Language," says Ms. Cartwig, with the ghost of a smile. "And please keep your PDA to classes I don't teach, Mr. Wick."

He puts her down with a grin and slides his phone over to her. "Deferred," he says. "Don't think you're getting rid of me that easily, Reyes."

Clarke isn't even a little surprised when all of the colleges he's applying to are in Boston.

*

There's a National Junior Classical League convention over the summer; Bellamy brings it up hesitantly, like he thinks Clarke will maybe judge him for wanting to go. But he ends his little speech with, "So, yeah, I think you should go and represent. Maybe bring Jasper and Harper, if they can swing it."

She frowns and then her stomach drops as she realizes. "How much is it?"

"Around five hundred," he says, shrugging. "That's without transportation. And I'd have to take time off work."

Clarke works her jaw. "There must be a scholarship or something. Have you looked? We can fund-raise. It's not that much money for this town, we could have a bake sale--"

Bellamy's laughing softly. "I should have told you sooner, huh?"

"Of course you should have! I didn't know you wanted to go!"

"I never said I did."

She rolls her eyes and slides her phone toward him. "Here, scholarships," she says. "Two of them. You're applying for both."

"What about you?"

"What about me? My grandparents will send me for my birthday, if I ask. I don't need it. You do."

"It would look good on college applications."

"It'll look good on _your_ college applications. Shut up and stop telling me to compete with you, Bellamy."

He snorts. "You joined the JCL to compete with me, Princess. You got yourself elected _co-president_. I didn't start this."

"Nah," says Clarke, grinning. "I joined the JCL to bug the shit out of you. And look, it's working."

*

Her mom is going into college overdrive mode, which is pretty much awful. Spring break is going to be one extended road trip to every Ivy League, and then flying out to California to check out Stanford and Berkeley. Her extra-curricular activities are under intense scrutiny, which mostly means Abby now doubts that JCL is really enough.

"I've won a bunch of art contests."

"Couldn't you try for student council next year? Or class treasurer. Maybe you could join the yearbook?"

"I don't think I'd make student council or class treasurer," says Clarke. She's very popular in the JCL, but they're not really a swing vote. "I do plenty, Mom."

"I just worry about you. It's easy to feel like high school doesn't matter, but the choices you're making will impact your whole life, Clarke. Don't blow this off just because it's easier to do nothing now. If you don't get into the right college--"

"I'm taking it seriously," Clarke says, but she signs up for yearbook, as a peace offering.

"Where do you want to go to college?" she asks Bellamy the next day, when she realizes they've never talked about it.

"Ark."

"Seriously?"

"It's a great school, I'd be close to Octavia, and they have need-blind financial aid. If you're accepted, they'll make sure you can go."

"Oh."

He grins. "Plus, I just moved here a few years ago. I'm not dying to get out yet."

"I'm not dying to get out," she says. "I'm applying to Ark too."

"Of course you are. Arkers always apply. It's the best safety school ever," he snaps, and Clarke almost jumps. It's the shortest he's been with her in years. Apparently, he notices too, because he rubs his face. "Sorry. I'm doing--all this money stuff, and it's driving me nuts. Ark feels like a pipe dream most days, you know? I'm probably going to end up going to community college or something. And that's fine, don't get me wrong, but--"

But Bellamy works harder than pretty much anyone Clarke's ever met, all the time. He works part time during the school year and full time over the summer, he studies constantly, he takes care of Octavia, and she's not sure where he finds time to _sleep_. He doesn't have the best grades in their class, but he's in the top ten, one place below her, last she heard. He does all that, and he's still going to have more trouble getting into Ark than she will, because his mother doesn't work there.

For all the two of them are close, for all they're casual about personal space, she's never actually properly hugged Bellamy Blake. It feels like the only thing to do now, because it _sucks_ , everything about it sucks, and there's only so much she can do to try to help.

He hugs back, hesitant at first, but then he's holding her like a lifeline, his nose in her hair, his breathing a little ragged.

"You can ask for help, you know," she says, soft. "I'll find scholarships for you again. I'll google financial aid plans. I'll help you hide the bodies."

He laughs into her hair. "Which bodies?"

"Whichever bodies you end up with."

She feels the brief, firm press of his lips on her temple before he pulls back, grinning. "That's quite a deal, Princess."

"Well, what are co-presidents for?"

Abby's delighted by her sudden interest in colleges; within a week, she's got a spreadsheet of all the schools in the northeast including cost, financial aid packages, cost to keep a car, time and distance from Octavia, and national ranking.

"Anyone ever tell you you're terrifying?" Bellamy asks, once he recovers from the shock.

"Not nearly enough," she says brightly.

*

Raven and Wick have decided to throw an epic graduation party, because, as Bellamy says, their parents are unnecessarily wealthy and they might as well take advantage of it.

"Plus," Wick adds, "we have to tear it up one last time here before we start tearing it up in Boston."

"I'll be tearing it up in Cambridge," Raven says. Wick is going to BU, but they seem fine with it. "Which is way classier. Anyway, Clarke, you have one job: get Bellamy to come."

"Why wouldn't he come?"

"He's a grumpy, antisocial nerd?" Wick suggests. "Which I obviously mean in the most loving way possible, he's my bro, but you're like the only person he ever hangs out with in any kind of relaxed way. Obviously it's very cute and we're all rooting for you guys, but if you don't physically drag him, he probably won't come. So your job is to physically drag him."

She's never actually gone to Bellamy's house, doesn't even know where he lives, and it's not like he's in the phone book. And of course, she never thought to ask his aunt's last name. So she texts Octavia, makes sure Bellamy isn't working during the party, and gets the address.

She might also change into her cutest sundress and spend half an hour doing her hair, even though it feels ridiculous. But it feels like a more adult party than the school dance, and she wants to feel fancy for a change. Besides, her legs are looking _awesome_ right now. Someone should appreciate it. If Bellamy doesn't, maybe someone else at the party will.

Bellamy's aunt can't be too badly off, because they don't actually live that far away, in easy walking distance. It's early June, a little spring chill still lingering in the air, the perfect day for a party, and Clarke feels lighter than she has in ages. She's headed to China next week to spend some time with her dad, and she and Bellamy have the National JCL convention at the end of July.

It's going to be a good summer.

Octavia opens the door and beams up at her. "Hey, you're here to drag him out?"

"Those are my orders, yeah."

"Well, he's upstairs, first door on the left," says Octavia. "Just kick it if he doesn't let you in, he's doing some stupid Bell stuff. He needs sunlight."

The house is small, but nice. It's clearly never held small children; everything is a little too neat and tidy, none of the scars she'd expect in a home that held the Blake siblings. She's sure they were both holy terrors. There are a few photographs on the walls, mostly a woman who must be their aunt, but one of Bellamy and Octavia in elementary school, Octavia missing half her teeth and Bellamy all bright smiles that catches her eye and makes her want to cry a little. She's never seen him look so unguarded.

She knocks on his door, and then, when there's no answer, kicks it, as instructed. There's some swearing, a muffled, "Jesus, O," and then he's opening the door in just a pair of boxers, his hair a total disaster. Clarke's mouth goes a little dry, and he flushes bright red, all up his chest. "Clarke?"

"Raven and Wick told me to drag you to their party. By force, if I have to," she says. "So, here I am."

He pushes his hair back from his face. "That's today?"

"No, I just decided to ambush you at home for fun. It's in an hour. I figured you might need time to primp."

"I'm naturally beautiful," he says, yawning into his arm. "Did Octavia at any point in your plotting mention that I have a job bartending now? And I was working until three last night?"

"It's four in the afternoon."

"I'm adjusting to a new schedule. It's like jet lag." He rubs the back of his neck, clearly embarrassed. "I guess I probably need a shower. You can, uh--hang out in here, I guess? I've got books and an old DS and a computer. I don't know. There's stuff."

Clarke smiles. "I can wait downstairs, you know. I came into your house with no warning to drag you out, you don't have to be polite. It's creeping me out."

He laughs at that and opens the door wider. "No, seriously, come on in. You can judge all my stuff. You know you want to." He sorts through his dresser, finding some clothes, and glances back to see her standing a little awkwardly in the middle of the room. "You can also sit down," he adds, amused. "I'll be back in like twenty."

Clarke does poke through his stuff a little--a ton of classical literature and mythology books, a decent selection of science fiction and fantasy novels, including, to her delight, the entire Harry Potter series, which she's immediately sure he's read aloud to Octavia, a few DVDs and CDs, the DS he mentioned. It's when she sees that that she realizes none of the stuff is even close to new; the DS is beat up and covered in stickers that she could see him maybe putting on at age twelve, but not at nineteen. Then she remembers what was happening in his life when he was twelve and feels a lump grow in her throat. She can picture him, small and scared, playing video games in a hospital waiting room.

She grabs _Bulfinch's Mythology_ off the shelves and looks around for a place to sit. His desk chair is covered in laundry, so she flops down on his bed, trying not to feel too self-conscious about it. It's just a bed. It's kind of made and mostly clean, and she's sat on plenty of other people's beds before. Just because it smells like Bellamy, that doesn't change anything.

She gets engrossed enough in the book that the sound of the door is a surprise, and she looks up to see Bellamy in jeans, toweling his hair dry, just as he sees her. Their eyes lock and Clarke can't breathe for a second. He falls back against the door, like he's maybe not entirely in control of his body, and she jumps a little when it slams shut.

"Is it sad if I've had this fantasy?" he asks, looking at her through his eyelashes.

She licks her lips, getting control of her voice. "Which fantasy?"

"You, in my bed, reading a mythology book."

Clarke can't help laughing. "Yes, actually. That's really sad. And weirdly specific. Does it have to be a mythology book? If I'd picked up Harry Potter, would this not be hot for you?"

"Harry Potter has a lot of mythological references," he says, throwing his towel onto the chair of dirty laundry. "I'd take it." He takes the book out of her hands and leans in to kiss her, slow enough she could stop him if she wanted to.

Instead, she winds her arms around his neck and pulls him in, and she can feel him smiling against her lips. He slides on top of her, smelling like shampoo and soap, and she lets her hands move down his back, cataloging the feel of his muscles moving under her fingertips. His hand is on her leg, inching up toward the hem of her dress, and every part of her feels like it's about to catch fire.

He's the one who pulls back first, pushing his face against her neck. "Jesus."

"Yeah?"

He laughs and kisses under her ear. "What, it wasn't good for you?"

"You have a lot more experience than I do," she points out. "You're probably harder to impress." He slides his hand into her hair and kisses her again, pushing her down into the bed, and she tries to do some math in her head. "Takes fifteen minutes to get to Wick's from here," she says, and gasps when one of his hands finds her breast. "So that gives us--"

"Are they going to notice if we're late?" he asks, nuzzling down her neck.

"Yes," she says. "And they're going to notice if I have a hickey, and they're definitely going to make fun of us."

His grin is wicked. "They're going to do that no matter what. We might as well deserve it."

She laughs and shoves him off, but just enough that he's next to her on the bed. He can't stop smiling, and it's doing funny things to her stomach. "We're going to go on time," she says. "And then we can leave early. That's our graduation present to them. Just think about how much they can tease us."

He laughs and shakes his head, getting up and rooting around for a shirt. "You're lucky I like you so much, Princess."

Any reply she could give would be embarrassingly sappy, so she just flashes him a sunny smile. "Put a shirt on, Bellamy."

*

In the car, she can't help saying, "You're dating me now."

He laughs and glances over at her. "Thanks for letting me know."

"I'm just saying, don't think I'm gonna let you sleep with me once and never call. I know where you live. I'm in all your classes. I'll--"

"I'm in love with you," he says, easy as anything. "I have been since--whenever it stopped being creepy. Let's say when you turned fifteen. I don't know." He smiles down at his hands on the wheel. "Actually, I do. It was when you told me I had a triangle."

Clarke gapes at him. "You know you helped me hook up with someone else last year, right?"

He shrugs. "Seemed like a dick move to stop you." 

She leans back in the seat, smiling to herself. She wonders if this is how Raven felt, when Wick finally lost his patience and did something. "I love you too," she says, and it's easier to say than she thought it would be, and just as true.

"Cool," he says. "So I'm dating you now."

They show up at Wick's holding hands, and Raven spends about an hour saying _I told you so_ , which is seriously unfair. That's half an hour longer than Clarke spent telling _her_ that after she and Wick got together, and they were a lot more pathetic and obvious.

"God, you guys are going to have fifteen kids with pretentious mythology names, aren't you," says Raven. Monty and Jasper brought some kind of home-brewed alcohol, which is horrific, but Wick's parents haven't noticed it yet, so everyone who didn't drive is getting rapidly plastered. "You're going to have a child named _Aeneas_ , Clarke. Think about that."

"We're not having a child named Aeneas," says Bellamy, draping himself over Clarke's shoulders. "Aeneas was a whiner."

"Yeah, Telemachus for life," Clarke says, deadpan, and holds her hand up for a high five, which he gives her.

Raven snorts. "You two deserve each other."

Clarke glances over her shoulder, meets Bellamy's eye and grins. "Yeah," she says. "Probably."

*

Abby can't quite believe when Clarke tells her she's going to Ark.

"I thought you couldn't wait to leave."

Bellamy's early admission letter has been taped to his wall since December; Clarke made a frame for it, with sparkly stars and exclamation points. It's not like she wouldn't have gone somewhere else if it seemed better. She applied to schools all over the northeast, but Ark is a good school, and she likes it here. 

"You shouldn't go to a different school just because your boyfriend is going to this one," Wells told her, when she asked him about it. He's going to Stanford, and he's going to do great. "That's just stupid as going to a school just because your boyfriend _is_ going there. Weigh him like you're weighing everything else."

When she asked Raven how it was having Wick in Boston, Raven said, "I'm definitely going to murder him eventually, and that would be a real pain if he wasn't close by. This is way more convenient." Which she assumed meant it was going well.

"I have a car," was all Bellamy said on the subject. "Just stay on the East Coast and we'll make it work."

"It's a good school," she tells her mother. "And I like it here."

Abby's quiet a minute, and then says, "And Bellamy's going here."

"Yeah."

She nods. "You don't need me to tell you that you shouldn't decide your future based on a boy. You know that. I'm going to trust that you've thought it through and you're making the right decision."

Clarke doesn't respond for a second, still waiting for the punchline. But Abby smiles, and she tentatively smiles back. "Yeah. They have a great art program, and even if I decide to go pre-med, I should be able to fit in a few classes. And--it'll be nice to be close to you. I can come home for dinner sometimes."

"Good. I'm glad."

Clarke swallows past an unexpected lump in her throat. "Me too."

She calls Bellamy after and tells him, "It actually went well. I'm still waiting for her to tell me I'm destroying my entire future."

He snorts. "God forbid you go to one of the top-ten colleges in the US," he teases. "You're totally throwing your life away to be with me."

"You're a terrible influence."

"The worst," he agrees. "Hey, you know there's a Senior Classical League? For college students. No chapter at Ark yet."

"Yet being the operative word."

"Well, we need something to do other than have sex all the time, right?"

Clarke laughs and flops back on the bed, looking up at her ceiling. "Co-presidents?"

"Co-presidents for life," he agrees, and she has to admit, it's got a nice ring to it.

**Author's Note:**

> Bellamy POV on the scene where they get together is [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4039033/chapters/10366752)!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Podfic - Dulce et Decorum Est](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4351562) by [bienenalster (pinkspider)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkspider/pseuds/bienenalster)




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